


When nobody knows you exist

by Twilight Fang (Asthenos)



Series: When nobody knows you exist [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, Shy Derek, Sub Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8045938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asthenos/pseuds/Twilight%20Fang
Summary: Derek is feeling depressed because nobody seems to care about his birthday.  Nobody but Stiles, that is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my response to how angsty Derek always looks during the 3rd and 4th season, where he is basically neglected as a character. I have yet to finish season 4, but I think that it's kind of sad that the Stiles/Derek scenes are either nonexistent, or not as slashy as they were during the 1st and 2nd seasons.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to leave a kudos or comment! It made me very very happy! :) And inspired 3 more chapters! :D
> 
> I'm now in the brainstorming process of possibly writing a sequel to this.

Beacon Hills may have been a small town – an unpopular town even – but no one could accuse it of being an unexciting town. Aside from the drastic surge in unsolved murder mysteries and bizarre animal sightings, there was nothing more awe-inspiring in this little town than its parties. People threw parties for just about any reason, and no reason at all. Birthday parties, school parties, housewarming parties, bachelor parties, wine and cheese parties, fancy costume parties, parties for domesticated cats and dogs, and so on. You name it, Beacon Hills celebrated it. And no one would dare accuse the citizens of throwing these parties in order to overcompensate for poor S.A.T. scores, juvenile delinquency, or a lower than average life expectancy rate.

 

There had been five parties this week alone, and there were still two more days to go before the week was over. Throwing a birthday party was a wonderful way to show that you cared about someone, so what did it mean if nobody bothered with your birthday? Derek asked himself this question a lot, usually in the middle of the night as he lay in bed, unable to sleep. In all his twenty-one years of existence, he couldn’t remember having celebrated even one of his birthdays in the company of friends. Actually, he was pretty sure that no one had ever bothered to wish him a happy birthday either. And it wasn’t like his birthday was some big secret either. For anyone who really gave a shit – and really, nobody did – it would be incredibly easy to find out Derek’s birthday. It only happened to be on the most popular day of the freaking year, after all.  

 

Letting out an audible sigh, because there was no one around to hear it, Derek turned away from the large expanse of windows – which were a major security breach waiting to happen – in the main living area of his loft and padded over to the kitchen in his well worn socks. The loft was absolutely freezing, perhaps even colder than it was outside, and what was passing off for flooring was like walking on ice. How were you supposed to heat such a monstrous room? The ceilings were cathedral-high and the windows as fragile as tissue paper. Derek seriously wondered if they would hold up through the winter, or if he would be set back another couple thousand if forced to have them replaced halfway through. In retrospect, renting out a meat locker would have been a lot more economical, and probably warmer, too.

 

Turning on the stove burner, Derek filled a small kettle with water and set it on top of the flame. This would be his fourth cup of tea in as many hours but he doubted that it would make him feel any warmer than the last three had. His kitchen was inconveniently tiny, barely big enough for two people to pass between the sink and the refrigerator without turning it into sexual harassment. The appliances were old pieces of shit, too, having been neglected and then abandoned by the loft’s previous occupants. As much as Derek would have _loved_ to buy new ones, he just couldn’t afford to on his nonexistent budget. Having been robbed of his family inheritance, which was his only source of income, he’d been forced to cut his spending and live like a monk. No luxuries, no new socks, and no raising the thermostat above 18°C.

 

_Ping!_

_Ping!_

_Ping! Ping!_

Email! Maybe someone had remembered his birthday after all! Feeling more excited than he would ever display in public, Derek picked up his cell phone from where he’d left it lying dangerously close to the burner and unlocked it. The screen immediately displayed the last four messages that he’d received from… – _Stiles?_ – Scott.

 

_At weekly lacrosse meet now._

_Team needs somewhere to host the New Year’s party._

_Can we use your loft?_

_Thanks!_

For a long time, Derek just stared at his cell phone, as if willing it to ping some more. That couldn’t be it. Surely Scott of all people had to have remembered his birthday. Derek was an unofficial member of his pack, wasn’t he? Didn’t that count for something? But after fifteen minutes had passed with no additional messages, Derek’s face fell and he flung the cell phone so hard it nearly ended up at the bottom of the sink. Who needed Scott anyway?!

 

Realizing that the water he’d been preparing for his tea was making a high pitched squealing sound and evaporating into the surrounding frigid air, Derek quickly turned off the burner, burnt himself on the side of the kettle, and swore in extreme irritation. Now he would have to wait until his first-degree burns healed before he could handle the kettle.

 

Derek held his hand out under the running tap water, trying to ease the stinging sensation until his body healed itself. The whole rejuvenation process was a lot more tiring and frustrating than it had ever been, mainly because Derek’s werewolf body just wasn’t behaving like it should. In other words, he just wasn’t healing as quickly or as smoothly as before. Who knew when his powers would revert back to their original state, or _if_ they would self-correct at all.

 

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

_Scott?_ Who else would be calling him? The alpha was probably the only person who had added him to his contacts list. Everyone else was always repeatedly asking him for his phone number or email address – only when they needed something – because they kept intentionally losing it afterwards. Stiles also might have saved his information… but Stiles was more of a _the world-is-ending-and-we-need-your-help_ type of email user. Stiles would never call him…, would he?

 

_Ring!_

_Ring!_

“Yeah?” Hopefully the person on the other end – _Stiles?_ – hadn’t heard the touch of shrillness in his voice that had ruined his air of casual indifference.

 

 _“Hi Derek,”_ came the voice that Derek had least expected to hear. All sweet and buttery, and oh-so-hard to trust.

 

“Lydia?” Derek asked suspiciously. “Why are you calling me?” _And how did you get my number?,_ he wanted to add.

 

 _“Well… you see, I’m throwing a Christmas Eve party tonight down at my lake house...,”_ Lydia drawled, keeping her tone just a little on the flirtatious side. She only did that when she wanted something. So, it was safe to say that she did it _a lot_.

 

 _A Christmas Eve party?!_ While it wasn’t as good as a birthday party, and one notch down from an actual Christmas party, Derek would take whatever he could get. Because on top of never being the recipient of a birthday party, no one had ever invited Derek to any other form of party either. His name was probably on a secret do-not-invite list. That had to be the only explanation for why he had never been invited to a party in Beacon Hills, although he had secretly shown up at one once to ensure that Scott didn’t eat Allison.

 

“What time does it start?” There was probably free food there, and drinks, and central heating. Forget the fact that parties actually made Derek nervous and he had the inability to start, continue, or end a conversation. He was so there already!

 

_“Actually, it started an hour ago. The thing is, someone brought alcohol –despite me telling them that it’s illegal for minors to drink – and now there are two kids here who are sooo wasted.”_

“And…?” What the hell did that have to do with Derek? If Lydia would just cut to the chase and invite him already, he could rummage through his closet for something to wear.

 

_“Well, you’re not doing anything tonight, are you? Do you think you could come over, pick them up, and drive them home? That would be awfully sweet of you--.”_

Derek hung up the phone, dropped it on the floor, and kicked it under the oven. Who needed to stay connected to the mobile world of users anyway?! So, not only was everyone completely oblivious to his birthday tomorrow – on Christmas for fuck’s sake! Who could forget that?! – but the only use anyone had for him was as a chauffeur, bodyguard, or monster bait.

 

The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched as he tried to contain his disappointment, and other less manly emotions. His over-exaggerated humble abode now seemed like more of a tomb than a place anyone would want to live in. He was confined to a vacuum of unimportance, severed from all human contact, and kept company by only the sound of his louder than usual breathing. _Who needs friends? Stiles doesn’t need friends…_ But the truth of the matter was that, as quirky and odd as Stiles happened to be, he actually had friends.

 

_Thud!_

_Thud!_

_WHAM!_

Now what?! Who had the nerve to pound on his door at this time of night? Normal people usually knocked. But this idiot was going all out by driving his fist, and then half his body, into the heavy steel door that kept all the unwanted riff-raff out.

 

_WHAM!_

_WHAM!_

_THUD!_

Derek unlatched the lock, grabbed hold of the door, and slid it open. “What the--?!” Of all the things he had expected to find on the other side of the door, Stiles sprawled outside it hadn’t been one of them. “Stiles?”

 

“Oh, hey! Got my shoelace caught,” Stiles explained, nervously laughing off his ungraceful entrance as he brushed off his brown corduroy pants and righted himself again. When Derek just stood there, blocking the door with an expression of total disbelief, Stiles stretched up onto his tiptoes. “You got someone in there with you?” He looked over Derek’s shoulder, scanning the living area for potential guests.

 

“You can see that I don’t,” Derek said gruffly, not knowing why Stiles was standing outside his loft with his lacrosse bag slung over one shoulder, and his backpack hanging from the other.

 

“Awesome! So move already!” Stiles squeezed past Derek, inviting himself into the loft, and immediately made a shivery sound. “ _Brrr!_ Why is it so fucking cold in here? You’re going to freeze your balls off.”

 

“Stiles, why are you here?”

 

Stiles ignored the question and ventured further into the loft. “Someone forgot to make their bed,” he scolded in a sing-song voice. He walked all the way to the far end of the room, giving Derek’s pull-out sofa bed a cursory glance as he passed by it. He stopped in front of the uncovered windows and dropped both of his bags down onto the cheap table Derek used for work and studying. Just because he had never gone to college didn’t mean that he hadn’t wanted to.

 

“Stiles,” Derek warned impatiently. “I eat there.”

 

“So?”

 

“Your lacrosse bag is full of germs and jockstrap. Get it off my table!”

 

But Stiles only grinned and tugged on the zipper of his lacrosse bag, slowly opening it while keeping a close eye on Derek’s expression. “I want to show you something,” he said, losing a bit of his flippant attitude as he became quite anxious.

 

“Let me guess. Your jeep broke down and you need a lift to the lacrosse meeting that Scott is holding tonight. And you want to bribe me into allowing your idiot team members to use my loft for that New Year’s Eve party, am I right?”

 

“What? No! Why would you think that?”

 

“Because that seems to be the only reason why people bother to associate with me nowadays – problem-solving.” Derek blatantly stared at Stiles at the other end of the room, giving him his best impression of _I don’t give a shit_ , until it became painfully obvious that he did give a shit. And Stiles was looking at him with those innocent amber-brown eyes, not containing even a sliver of deception in them. Derek tried to look away but couldn’t, entranced by the unfamiliar way Stiles was gazing at him.

 

“Well, I can imagine how much that must suck,” Stiles said softly, pausing for a moment before reaching into his bag. When he withdrew his hands, he was holding an average sized box that had nothing to do with lacrosse, or school for that matter. He carefully placed it down on the table and scratched the back of his neck self-consciously before tapping on it. “I, uh, kind of got you a cake.”

 

Derek continued to stare at Stiles in confusion, unconsciously taking a few steps closer as he was drawn to the mystery of what else was in that gym bag. Because it was still quite bulky and Derek had the feeling that Stiles wouldn’t have stuffed gym equipment in beside a cake. “Christmas is tomorrow…” Derek couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was too shocked by the fact that Stiles had bought him a cake. So what if Christmas was tomorrow. Stiles-had-bought-Derek-a-cake!

 

“Yeah, I know. So that’s why I had to buy it today. This is like _the_ best cake shop in town! But the lazy bastards are closed on Christmas Day, so I had to get it early. Go ahead. Open it!”

 

Inching even closer to the table, Derek now avoided making eye contact with Stiles because there was a lot of dust in the air. His eyes were irritated and his throat was so dry that it was difficult to swallow past the lump in it. Derek waited a few heartbeats for Stiles to announce that this was all a practical joke and the cake was actually for Lydia’s party. Or that there was nothing inside. When Stiles did neither, Derek peeled back the tape on either end of the box and opened the lid. There, sitting inside the box, was the most cheerful looking cake Derek had ever seen. It looked like a butter-cream cake, decorated artistically with red, blue, green, and yellow marzipan wolves, which were crammed together with balloons and stars made of icing. It was a miracle that nothing had fallen off of the cake on the way over. But what really choked Derek up was the white chocolate plaque in the center of the cake. It didn’t say _Merry Christmas_. It said _Happy Birthday Derek_.

 

“Do you like it?” Stiles asked eagerly.

 

Derek backed away from the table, suddenly feeling his face heat up despite the way the cold loft made his breath show up as white puffs of air. His throat really hurt now, his sinuses were acting up, and his eyes were burning.

 

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles called out in dismay, coming round the table to touch Derek’s arm. “It’s not like this is the first birthday cake anyone’s ever gotten you,” he lightly teased, underestimating just how much the gesture meant to Derek. But when Derek failed to respond, biting down on his lower lip to stop it from quivering, Stiles’ expression saddened. “That must hurt,” he said quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets and appearing indecisive about something.

 

“It’s fine. I don’t even like cake,” Derek lied, his eyes wandering back to the colorful wolves of their own accord. “But I like your cake,” he said stupidly, not wanting to hurt Stiles’ feelings because he didn’t know what he was supposed to say to such a kind gesture. Stiles had bought him a cake. Stiles had skipped his lacrosse meet – which was the most important activity in his life right now – to bring him a cake. How had Stiles even known that it was his birthday tomorrow? Before Derek could get a grip on his emotions, the tightness in his throat worsened and his vision swam with tears – tears that stung as they tracked down his cheeks, and made his short beard feel damp and itchy.

 

“Aww, hell. Don’t cry,” Stiles muttered uncomfortably. “If you cry, I’m going to have to do something really gay, like hug you. I’m warning you, I won’t be able to stop myself.”

 

Through his tears, Derek couldn’t help but laugh a little, which just made him cry harder.

 

“Don’t say I didn’t give you fair warning.” And then Stiles was moving forward and wrapping Derek up in a big, bulky, sweater of a hug. “Silly emotional wolf,” he said with just a twinge of fondness.

 

Stiles was unyielding and warm, so unlike the illusionary confidantes that abandoned Derek when he woke up every morning. It was that warmth – Stiles’ warmth – that Derek had been patiently waiting for all this time. Derek burrowed into that hideous red and green sweater, letting the knitted acrylic soak up his tears. He felt Stiles’ hand on his head, petting him in a consoling manner as the hand at his back began to move over that spot in comforting circles. As hard as he tried to stay silent, he couldn’t prevent an embarrassing whimper from escaping now and then.

 

“Shhh. It’s okay, Derek. _I_ would never forget your birthday,” Stiles said soothingly. “You’re my favorite wolf, you know.”

 

Of all the comforting things Stiles could have chosen to say, that had to have been the most ridiculous. But Derek responding to it made it even worse. “I am?” He sniffed and tried to pull away from Stiles, but he was now being held with two arms, locked in tight and secure in what was beginning to feel a lot like an embrace.

 

“I thought that should be obvious by now,” Stiles sighed. “You have to know that I like you better than Liam.”

 

“Who’s Liam?” Derek had a hard time remembering all of Stiles’ classmates’ names. Beacon Hills High School had such a high turnover that it was better not to get too attached to any new students coming in.

 

“Forget Liam. I like you better than Scott.”

 

That stopped Derek’s tears instantly. “Scott’s your best friend. Why would you like me more than him?”

 

“Because I would never kiss Scott.” When Derek lifted his head off of the wet spot that he’d created on that itchy sweater to look at Stiles, he was rewarded with a spontaneous kiss on the lips. It was brief and chaste, but it made Derek feel like he was soaring ten feet above his body. “That’s a nice look on you,” Stiles praised in approval. “Your eyes are so dewy and green, like a defenseless Bambi-wolf.”

 

“Huh?” Had Stiles been doing drugs before coming over? What the hell was that even supposed to mean?

 

“You just have these really _big_ sea-green eyes that always look so, so sad,” Stiles said with a heavy sigh. “And the way your eyebrows come together when you’re getting all angsty…” Stiles brushed his thumb over Derek’s eyebrows, one at a time, following them as they slanted upwards, proving his point.

 

“Stiles, you _kissed_ me.” And instead of giving Derek an explanation for it, Stiles had gone off comparing Derek to Bambi, of all the freaking childish creatures.

 

“As much as a deep, perverted part of me likes to see those dewy green eyes, I’d much rather celebrate your birthday in a positive and healthy way. Like this.” Stiles’ mouth covered Derek’s again, but this time there was nothing chaste about the way his tongue sought entry into the wolf’s mouth. He played tag with Derek’s tongue, coaxing it out to play in a slippery battle of dominance, which Derek lost the second Stiles groped his ass. Without even trying, Stiles had Derek moaning in his arms and poking holes in that acrylic sweater with his overexcited claws. “Do you feel less gloomy now?” Stiles asked, planting kisses all over Derek’s face. “Hmm? Why is my wolf so quiet all of a sudden? Oh! That’s right. You’re _always_ this quiet.”

 

“Stiles…” Derek opened his mouth to say something – anything – but shut it again because he couldn’t organize his thoughts. Instead, he closed his eyes and nuzzled against Stiles, his heart overflowing with ten different kinds of happiness.

 

“You don’t have to say anything. But you do have to enjoy your early birthday party, as small as it might be with just the two of us.” Stiles edged back to the table, pulling an elated Derek along with him. “And… I also got some sandwiches, salad, and a fruit platter.” He proudly set his supermarket purchases down beside the cake, quickly scratching the discount sticker off of the plastic salad container. “And last, but not least, I got you a present.”

 

“You did?” Derek really hoped that he wasn’t going to wake up only to find out that this was all one cruel, elaborate dream. As inconspicuously as he could manage, he began to count his fingers one by one. Stiles had told him that the only way to tell if you’re dreaming is to count your fingers. Dreams lied so you would always end up with an extra one or two if you were still asleep. So he counted his fingers a few times to be sure and kept on coming up with ten. Perhaps ten would be his new lucky number.

 

“Actually, I got you two presents. But you can only have one.” Stiles took out two wrapped boxes from his backpack – one small and square, and the other even smaller and flat.

 

“So one is empty?” Why would Stiles have bought two presents? That didn’t make any sense to Derek. But then again, he was still overwhelmed about the cake.

 

“No, you moron. There’s something inside both boxes. If you want me to go home tonight, I recommend you open this box.” Stiles indicated the square one with the blue wrapping paper and red ribbon. “But, if you want me to stay tonight than you should take this one.” He held up the lighter box with the pink wrapping and yellow ribbon.

 

What a horrible color combination! But, the idea of Stiles staying the night was making Derek feel all tingly and uncharacteristically happy, so he took the pink box and sniffed it. There was nothing edible inside. And when he shook it, it didn’t sound like anything breakable. “Can I open it?”

 

“That’s what you’re supposed to do with presents,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes.

 

Derek tore the ribbon and wrapping paper off, uncovering a plain white box inside. He opened it quickly, tossing the lid onto the table… and gave Stiles a slack-jawed look of amazement. “What’s in the other box?” He tried grabbing for the square box that Stiles now hid behind his back.

 

“It’s bad manners to reject a present. You chose that one, and that one is the only one you’re getting. Unless… you don’t want me to stay tonight?”

 

Grumbling about how warped Stiles’ sense of humor was, Derek pulled out the most obscene pair of skimpy black briefs that he had ever seen in his life. At first, he thought that Stiles had accidentally bought a thong from the women’s lingerie department. But no, the slit down the front was clearly to be utilized by a man with the right equipment. And right across the back was either Stiles’ idea of a joke or a reference to a serious animal fetish. A cute cartoon wolf lying on its back with all fours in the air made the otherwise sexy briefs look totally strange.

 

“It’s funny, right? That’s supposed to be you,” Stiles cackled.

 

“Hilarious,” Derek sighed, restraining himself only because Stiles had bought him a birthday cake, kissed him, and promised to spend the night. “But I still want to know what’s in the other box.”

 

Stiles eyes lit up as he smiled and placed the box on top of the table. “Your birthday is tomorrow, so that’s when you’ll get your _real_ present. I would have given it to you now, if you had wanted me to leave. But you want me to stay so you’ll have to wait.”

 

“Stiles…?”

 

“If you’re going to get all teary-eyed again when you thank me, save it for after dinner.”

 

“I thought we were going to eat the cake.”

 

“No dessert before meals,” Stiles said firmly, closing the cake box and disappearing into the kitchen with it.

 

Derek watched Stiles walk confidently into the kitchen, as if he owned the place, and smiled. He no longer cared that Scott didn’t seem to want him in his pack or that Lydia used him like a taxi service. All he cared about was Stiles being with him on his birthday.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a real hassle making space in Derek’s fridge for the birthday cake. Although quite the prime example of a socially challenged bachelor, Derek was one hell of a sensible shopper. He was one of those stock-up-in-case-of-an-emergency types, which explained why everyone seemed to rely on him in an actual emergency. The fridge was filled way past capacity with items from all five food groups, the cupboards were organized according to expiration date, and the abbreviated version of a countertop held more spices than Stiles had known existed. One day in the near future Stiles intended to ask Derek to cook for him. With all those supplies, the wolf had to be one hell of a chef!

 

But today and tomorrow were about Derek relaxing and having fun, as unnatural as that might be for the wolf. There would be no cooking, cleaning, or whatever else involved stress.

 

Plates. Where were the plates? Everything was jammed so closely together in the cupboard that Stiles had one hell of a time getting the plates out. They were stacked behind a neat row of tea jars, so Stiles had to be really careful not to knock anything over.

 

_Vrrr!_

_Vrrr!_

_Vrr! Vrr!_

“Holy shit! The oven is vibrating!” Stiles nearly leapt out of his skin as the rattling sound and vibrations continued from under the oven. When it stopped and no crazy half-baked chicken monster popped out of the oven, Stiles got down onto his hands and knees to find the source of the noise. There, in a dusty pile under the oven, lay Derek’s disowned cell phone. Wondering how Derek had managed to drop the cell phone under there in the first place, Stiles reached under the oven to retrieve it. He dusted it off a bit and then unlocked it. Why? Because Derek had no concept of security, and because Stiles just couldn’t mind his own business. He’d watched Derek entering his code often enough to have memorized it.

 

There were three missed text messages on Derek’s phone, along with a voice mail message.

 

Stiles clicked on the first message and frowned. It was from Scott.

 

_So we’ve decided to start the party at around 6:00 on the 31 st._

_Can you be out by 5:00?_

_We need time to prep._

Well, Scott did love to impose on people, but shoving poor Derek out of his own home on New Year’s Eve was cruel and so not going to fly with Stiles. Making sure that Derek was still busy opening all the food packages in the main living area, Stiles took it upon himself to do what his wolf couldn’t – say NO!

 

_No._

_Find somewhere else to host your party of losers._

_I have my own party to plan and you’re not invited._

Satisfied with his text, Stiles pressed _send_ and moved onto the next one. Which just happened to be from Lydia.

 

_We seem to have gotten disconnected and you’re not picking up so I guess you’re stuck in traffic. On your way over do you think you could pick up some more beer and maybe a pizza? Thanks!_

Of all the nerve! No wonder Derek was feeling so down and miserable. Why the hell should Derek drive all the way up to Lydia’s lake house just to deliver food? What was he, Domino’s Pizza Delivery?!

 

_Not coming._

_Get off your cute strawberry-blond ass and get it yourself!_

Now that had been cathartic! Who was next? “Peter Hale,” Stiles muttered with disdain. “And what can I do for you tonight, you psychotic serial killer?”

 

_Ran out of cash again down at Triple X Bar._

_Come and settle my tab._

Now _this_ , Stiles was going to enjoy.

 

_Go pimp yourself, asshole!_

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Derek appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and just stared blankly at his cell phone in Stiles’ hands.

 

“I found your cell phone. It was vibrating…” Stiles trailed off when he noticed that Derek was shivering. “You know, I think you might need a portable heater. Is the water in the kettle still hot?”

 

“I boiled it around fifteen minutes ago, so it’s safe to say that it’s back to room temperature.”

 

“Okay, one fresh kettle of boiling hot water coming up!” Stiles tossed Derek’s phone onto the countertop, dumped out the lukewarm water from the kettle, refilled it with fresh tap water, and set it onto the burner. He then pulled his wolf up against him with one arm. “Geez, your arms are like ice,” he complained. “Why don’t you go put on a thicker shirt or a sweater? You’re going to catch a cold.”

 

“Peter has a habit of borrowing my sweaters and not returning them. I don’t have any left.” Although Derek tried to make it sound like the sweater-borrowing was just a bad habit of Peter’s, Stiles could sense that it actually upset him. To be treated so poorly by his own uncle had to be painful for Derek, especially because that freak was one of the only two living family members that the wolf had left.

 

“Why don’t you go get inside those seriously drab blankets I saw on your bed to keep warm? I wouldn’t want my birthday wolf to get sick before his birthday,” Stiles said with a smirk.

 

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

 

“Almost. I don’t know where you keep the mugs. And what kind of tea do you want? It’s like a Starbucks in here.”

 

“Top left cupboard, behind the paper towels. Any kind of tea will do.”

 

“Even _Assam Mangalam_?” Stiles asked, purposely butchering the pronunciation.

 

“Anything is fine, Stiles. Just come back quickly.” Having said that, Derek escaped from the kitchen before Stiles could see that the tips of his ears had turned pink.

 

 _Bashful dewy-eyed Bambi-wolf_ , Stiles thought to himself in private amusement. Stiles was pretty damn proud of himself. Not only had he put together a pretty decent birthday setup, what with his limited budget and all, but he had also inadvertently moved Derek to tears. It had been bound to happen sooner or later considering how Derek was carrying around all this angst and trauma. Stiles would definitely have to pull Scott aside and give him a stern brotherly talking to over the inconsiderate emails he kept sending Derek. Lydia would need to be trained to stop outsourcing her shopping tasks. And Peter… well, he just needed to be put down. End of story.

 

After the kettle had boiled, Stiles poured out two steaming mugs of foreign-sounding tea, balanced them on a tray along with the plates, napkins, and eating utensils, and carried everything into the other room. He found Derek curled up to one side of the bed, wrapped in as many blankets as he’d been able to find.

 

“Should I drag the table over to the bed, or the bed over to the table?”

 

“We can eat on the bed.”

 

“I don’t know, Derek, that sounds kind of dangerous where the hot tea is concerned.”

 

“Don’t worry. The mattress is completely flat. I don’t think that it came with bed springs.” Derek patted the bed, which resulted in a dull thudding sound, demonstrating that there really weren’t any springs inside. Then he looked up at Stiles expectantly.

 

“Okay, but I’m warning you, this is some lethally hot tea here.” Stiles set the tray down on the opposite end of the bed, gathered their supermarket-prepared dinner up from the table, and laid everything out on the bed in an appealing manner. “Chicken or beef?”

 

“Chicken, please.”

 

“Not beef? What kind of carnivore are you?” Stiles mocked Derek lightly as he passed him the plate with the chicken sandwich after loading it up with the garden salad.

 

“The kind that prefers chicken,” Derek replied with a smug grin.

 

“That works for me because I prefer beef. I prefer werewolves over dogs, too,” he added. Stiles carefully made his way up the bed with his plate and took a huge, savage bite of his sandwich, because all the excitement had really perked up his appetite. In between bites, he gazed over at Derek, admiring his exotic feral beauty. He couldn’t understand why people either ignored or shied away from the wolf. Maybe it was because other people felt insecure when in Derek’s mysterious, brooding presence. For sure he was more attractive than Scott and more interesting that Chris Argent. _Ugh! No comparison!_ And Peter…? That man was not worth looking at. “I noticed that you don’t have a TV,” Stiles commented as he shoveled salad greens into his mouth.

 

“I don’t need one.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I prefer to spend time outdoors or meditate.”

 

Stiles nearly choked. How could anyone possibly prefer meditating to watching sci-fi movies? But then again, there were worse things to worry about in a relationship, like when the person you were dating had a penchant for chasing down deer in the forest and then offering a whole leg as meat for dinner – like Malia. Yes, definitely worse things. “Do you at least have a CD player?”

 

“I did…”

 

“Oh, don’t tell me. Peter has it now.”

 

Derek dropped his gaze to his plate and started to quietly rearrange his salad on it with his fork. “He said he would give it back tomorrow.”

 

“Screw him.” Stiles pulled out his iPhone, scrolled across to his own unique music app, and selected his _romantic_ playlist. Being the underdog in most situations had driven Stiles to study harder, be more competitive, and take whatever shortcuts he needed to come out on top. He tediously planned everything, even the purely instrumental music list that had taken him four hours to compile. He’d screened every last song to make sure everything was extra sappy and conducive to the mood that he was aiming for. He didn’t just want to impress Derek on his birthday. He wanted to imprint this two-day affair forever in the wolf’s mind so that whenever Derek thought about his birthday, the only image he’d be able to conjure up would be of Stiles.

 

As expected, the music had the desired effect of luring Derek out of his evil-uncle funk and back into Stiles’ arms. Having finished with his dinner and most of the rich robust Assam, Derek gravitated closer to Stiles until he was enveloped in a tender embrace.

 

“Are you warm now?” Stiles asked, running his hand up and down Derek’s arm.

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this warm,” Derek sighed, relaxing against Stiles and dreamily gazing out the window. “I think it’s snowing.”

 

“Do wolves like the snow?”

 

“I think it depends on the wolf. I like it, but I don’t like the cold.”

 

“What if I wrapped myself around you like an anaconda and protected you from the cold?”

 

Derek laughed in surprise. “Stiles, what is wrong with you? Why do you have to turn everything into some kind of bizarre joke? Do you want to become a comedian when you graduate?”

 

“Actually, no. I haven’t decided yet, but I’m thinking of maybe becoming a teacher, a researcher, or joining NASA.”

 

“NASA… that’s in Houston,” Derek said as he began to calculate how long it would take to get there from his loft.

 

“Don’t worry. No matter where I go, I’m taking you with me,” Stiles promised, hearing the sadness in Derek’s voice. When Derek tried to say something, no doubt wanting to question how Stiles could possibly make a promise that he might not be able to keep, Stiles silenced him with a kiss. “You’re coming with me,” he repeated firmly, ending the discussion. There would never be another wolf like Derek, or another anything like Derek. Stiles wanted only Derek and wouldn’t settle for anyone else. He could actually picture himself living with Derek in a fully functional apartment somewhere else – it didn’t matter where – eating together, sleeping together, celebrating the holidays together. They would have central heating, or an operational radiator if they couldn’t afford to live in a nice neighborhood, and a home entertainment centre – for Stiles, and a quiet zen room – obviously not for Stiles, and a Doberman that Stiles intended to name _Reese’s_. Because brand name chocolate was awesome! Stiles just didn’t like leaving anything up to chance, and that was why he was always thinking at least ten years into the future.

 

“I would follow you anywhere,” Derek vowed, as loyal a wolf as they came.

 

“I know you would because you’re my overly sensitive, cute and cuddly wolf.” Stiles punctuated every word by squeezing and rubbing against Derek, as if he were trying to mark his territory.

 

“Please promise me you’ll never call me anything like that in public,” Derek pleaded, his face a few shades duskier than usual. “Especially not in front of Scott and the others.”

 

“Whatever you say, Bambi-wolf,” Stiles teased, catching Derek’s ear lobe between his teeth and playfully tugging on it. “You’re just one big softie, aren’t you?”

 

“Stiles! Cut it out,” Derek laughed, trying to escape the endless string of weird semi-compliments that kept spilling out of Stiles’ grinning mouth.

 

“Is my wolf actually laughing?” Stiles teased in amusement. He launched himself at Derek, crushing his wolf into the mattress, and just started to nuzzle him all over. First attacking Derek’s dark bearded jaw, behind his ear, and then down his neck. And when that wasn’t enough, he alternated the nuzzling with kisses and mock bites, ending it with a molten-hot kiss on the lips that left his wolf panting and trembling all over. “Wow! If your pupils get any larger, I’ll have to animate you.” Now this was how he liked his wolf. Happily lying in his arms and looking drunk on sensation. Although Stiles would never admit it to Derek, he was well aware that nuzzling and biting a wolf like that was like initiating a mating rite. Such a performance would make Derek off limits to other potential suitors, and leave his wolf with something to look forward to a few dates down the road. As always, Stiles had thought of _everything_.

 

“Stiles… you just… was that…?” Amusingly, Derek couldn’t seem to form a complete sentence as he grabbed onto Stiles tightly and refused to let go.

 

Yeah. Undeniably, Derek knew about the mating rite. “I think that it’s time for the cake,” Stiles blurted out before his wolf could outright accuse him of what he’d been dabbling in. He kissed Derek once more, on the tip of his nose, and half fell out of the bed to get to the kitchen.

 

_My wolf. All mine._

_Mine._

_Mine._

_Mine._

Stiles hummed appreciatively to himself as he took the cake out of the fridge and dug the small package of candles out from his back jeans pocket. They were a bit disfigured from when he’d been sitting on them, but they were still good. All they needed to do was hold a flame for a few seconds and then they’d be blown out and tossed into the sink anyhow. Knowing that only an idiot would dare put twenty-two candles on a cake, Stiles settled for three – one to represent the past, present, and future. Was he superstitious? Maybe just a little.

 

“Flame on!” He cheerfully flicked on the disposable lighter he’d picked up from the convenience store yesterday, because he didn’t smoke, and lit the candles up one by one.

 

As he carried the glowing cake back into the other room, which was naturally dark because it was quite late – after midnight actually – and lacked practical lighting fixtures, he wished that he had hired a professional photographer. The absolute joy and excitement on Derek’s face was something that he had never seen before and a memory that he wanted to cherish forever. His cell phone would just have to do this time. The next time he was going to ransack the evidence room down at the sheriff’s department until he found a camera he could borrow.

 

Stiles carefully placed the cake down on the bed beside Derek, mindful that the blankets wouldn’t catch fire, and took his cell phone out to record through the _Happy Birthday_ song.

 

_“~Happy Birthday to you_

_Happy Birthday to you_

_Happy Birthday my dewy-eyed Bambi-wolf_

_Happy Birthday to you~”_

Well, that had gone over nicely. No broken glass and no sirens – meaning no one had called the cops over Stiles’ horrible singing.

 

“Go on and make a wish,” Stiles urged, barely able to contain his own excitement.

 

Derek looked up at Stiles, his eyes all glittery again with tears, and smiled. Then, having finished making his silent wish, he blew out all three candles simultaneously.

 

“Thank you, Stiles. For everything,” Derek said emotionally, feeling like the happiest wolf ever.

 

Stiles patted Derek on the head and put his cell phone down to hack away at the cake. “Do you want a red wolf or a blue wolf?”

 

“Blue.”

 

“Then I’ll take red. See how we keep doing that?” Stiles licked the knife and cut off a huge chunk of cake with the edge of his fork. “Oh, this is sooo _good_ ,” he moaned, devouring the dessert in massive bites. “The wolf is the best part.”

 

Finally realizing that Stiles was just trying to goad him, Derek let the innuendo go unpunished and enjoyed his own piece of cake. “It really is delicious, Stiles. You know all the best food shops in town.”

 

“Maybe we’ll hit one tomorrow,” Stiles said vaguely.

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

“Oh, it’s 12:30. It’s already tomorrow. I meant later today. You’d better hurry up and finish your cake because I have the whole day planned. You’ll need lots of rest to get through it.” Once Stiles’ plate was immaculately clean, after he used his tongue to go after the icing that his fork couldn’t pick up, he carried the remainder of the cake back into the kitchen. “You should go take a shower first. You still look cold,” Stiles said considerately when he returned to pick up the dirty dishes. “I’ll take one after you.”

 

“But you’re the guest.”

 

“And I’ll just bet that your water heater sucks. So you go first. I’ve got some things that I need to confirm.” Stiles waited until Derek was out of sight before he double-checked the weather, confirmed a reservation, and emailed Scott and Lydia to explain that Derek hadn’t suddenly turned into an asshole. He took full credit for the nasty emails but reinforced Scott’s need to stop bullying his wolf, and told Lydia to get herself a personal assistant. To Peter, he sent an email threatening bodily violence unless the serial killer returned everything he had borrowed from Derek and go to an AA meeting for his apparent alcohol addiction.

 

Then Stiles emptied his pajamas, toiletries, and a change of clothes onto the bed and dropped his backpack onto the floor. He was one sly bastard, that’s for sure. Well, his cocky confidence hadn’t been misplaced because there was just enough space in Derek’s bed for two people, and Stiles had already called the left side.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _Derek…_ ”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“ _Derek…_ ”

 

“Sleeping…”

 

“ _Dewy-eyed Bambi-wolf_ …”

 

Derek finally reacted to Stiles’ seductive charm, his eyes slowly opening to regard his bedmate with sleepy wonder. “You weren’t a dream?”

 

Stiles smirked. “I’m better than a dream.” He leaned over to kiss Derek on the lips and then ruffled his dark messy hair. “Time to wake up, sleepy wolf. There are many things on our schedule today and not enough daylight to accomplish them in. So wakey wakey.” He gently shook Derek’s shoulder to rouse him and get him moving.

 

“You stayed here, all night?” Derek asked in disbelief.

 

“Where else would I go?”

 

“I don’t know. I just thought…”

 

“That I’d get bored and decide to sleep on your dusty old sofa instead of wrapping myself around a cute, purring wolf? Yeah, dream on. I spent _the whole night_ holding you in my arms and staring at you like a crazy stalker. I didn’t even get up when I heard something scratching at your front door… although maybe I should have,” Stiles said, sounding just a tad nervous.

 

“Stiles, I don’t purr,” Derek protested, sounding bewildered by Stiles’ outlandish imagination.

 

“Sorry to shatter your tough guy image, but you kind of do. You were all smiley, having a good dream or something, and then you just started to purr. Not like a cat. Lower and with a lot more rumbling. Kind of like a wolf drunk on wolfsbane.” Stiles nuzzled Derek’s throat and tried to imitate the noise, sounding more like a pregnant cat in labor instead.

 

“Stiles, please _stop_!” Derek laughed. “That’s terrible! Nothing makes that kind of perverted noise.”

 

“I do.” Pulling away again, Stiles gave Derek an evil look full of mischief. “Next time, I’m going to use my cell phone to record you and play it back on a loop. It’ll kind of be like one of those nature CDs you listen to when you can’t sleep.” Considering the erotic implications of such a track, Stiles doubted that he’d be able to sleep _with_ it playing.

 

Derek blushed, knowing that Stiles was perfectly capable of embarrassing him like that. “If you have so much free time on your hands, you might want to clean my bathroom sink instead,” he suggested vengefully.

 

“Huh? Why would I want to do that?”

 

“Because you left globs of toothpaste all over it last night. You also left the toilet seat up and the toilet roll unraveled on the floor. How does your father put up with you?”

 

“Well, nobody’s perfect,” Stiles said unaffectedly with a small shrug. “I’m still going to get my purring wolf audio track, with or without your knowledge.” He quickly changed the subject before his dark and handsome wolf turned into a shy cherry-red one. “Look, the sun is already out. It’s time to open your birthday present.” Throwing off all the blankets so that Derek would have no choice but to get up, Stiles hopped off of the sofa bed, quickly dashed across the flooring to the table, grabbed the wrapped box, and hurried back onto the mattress. “Your floor is _freezing_! Like sub-zero thermal shock _freezing_! I think my toes got frostbite.”

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.”

 

Stiles thrust the box at Derek and started to bounce up and down on the mattress excitedly. “Open it! Open it!” And from behind his back, he stealthily pulled out his cell phone and hit the record button. _One dewy-eyed Bambi-wolf coming up_ , he thought eagerly to himself. Sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.

 

“Did you wrap this?” The ribbon was triple tied in knots, making it impossible to loosen with a human nail. As hard as Derek tried, he just couldn’t work his nail in between those knots.

 

“Maybe…”

 

Growing impatient when he couldn’t get the ribbon undone, Derek unsheathed the claw on his index finger and shredded both the ribbon and the paper in one long sharp scratch. He uncovered a white box with a hell of a lot of writing and diagrams all over it, which didn’t interest him, so he pulled open the box to dig inside for his present. And out popped a sleek black watch with a blank face. Derek flipped it over, examined the back, and turned it right side up again to rub his finger over the face. “Is this one of those digital watches?” Derek asked in obvious delight. “How do I turn it on?”

 

Stiles took the watch from Derek to turn it on and then began to adjust some of the settings. “It’s an Apple Watch. You can record your workouts with it, train your heart for better fitness – or to control full moon rages, which is kind of more Scott’s problem than yours – track your location with GPS, schedule appointments… But the most important feature is the one that didn’t come with the watch, and probably voided the warranty as soon as Argent installed it.”

 

Derek glanced at Stiles skeptically. “You asked Chris Argent to install something into my birthday watch? It’s not going to electrocute me, is it?”

 

“No, but it is going to allow me to find you if you ever get kidnapped again.” Stiles held up his cell phone so that he could show Derek the unique app that he had linked to the shiny Apple Watch. In the center of the screen there were two dots overlapping – a red one and a green one, both displaying the coordinates for Derek’s loft. “See, I’m the green dot. And you’re the red dot.”

 

“Why am I the red dot?”

 

“ _Just because_. The red dot is usually the target so it works easier that way. Do you like it?”

 

“I love it, Stiles! Thank you very much.” Now Derek would never be late for any future dates that Stiles invited him on. And there were so many fun apps for him to amuse himself with. He kept fiddling with the watch, quickly getting the hang of all the functions.

 

“Aww,” Stiles moaned in disappointment.

 

Derek’s sea-green eyes shot up to look at Stiles in concern. “What’s wrong?”

 

Still with the happy face. No dewy eyes over the present. Oh well. Stiles still had several more attempts to get his coveted video recorded before the day was over. “Nothing. Why don’t you go check your front door? Maybe one of Santa Claus’ reindeer got pissed at you for not having a fireplace and was scuffing up your welcome mat with its hooves last night. It could have been Rudolph or one of his many bullying friends.”

 

“What? No Bambi?” Derek asked with a roll of his eyes.

 

“That position has already been filled,” Stiles announced with a pointed look at Derek.

 

Grumbling on about how Stiles was even weirder early in the morning, Derek picked up his sneakers from the side of the bed and shoved his feet into them. There was no way he was going to be dumb enough to walk across the floor with his bare feet. He couldn’t afford to pay the medical bills for frostbite if his healing powers conked out again. And who would have been at his door in the middle of the night anyhow? Derek knew all about Stiles’ sleepwalking habits, as well as how mischievous he was. If anyone had been messing around inside Derek’s loft last night, it had to have been Stiles and nobody else.

 

Quickly unlatching the door before the freezing cold metal seeped into the warmth of his fingers, Derek swung the sliding door open and let go. And there, outside his front door, was a big box wrapped in shiny Christmas green and red wrapping paper with a big gold bow on top. Derek glanced over his shoulder at Stiles in emotional overload. “You got me _two_ presents?”

 

“Well, I did, but the one last night was a gag present so it doesn’t count. No, I only got you one,” Stiles replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders, not looking the least bit surprised by the mysterious appearance of the present at the door with Derek’s name on it.

 

“Then who got me this?” Derek could tell when Stiles was lying. Out of all the non-wolf members of the pack, Stiles was the worst at covering things up. He had more telltale signs than a child guilty of accidentally throwing a baseball through a school window. First his heart rate would go up, and then he would start to blink – or not blink at all – rapidly, and all his regular exaggerated gesturing would be automatically suppressed. No. Stiles had nothing to do with the colorful box outside his door.

 

“Why don’t you just thank Santa, take your present inside, and open it? Like normal people do.”

 

“I can’t accept gifts from strangers,” Derek said warily. “What if there are drugs inside? Or a bomb? Or…”

 

“Or an actual present?” Stiles groaned and let his whole body slump onto the bed in dismay. “Do I really have to explain the whole purpose of Santa Claus and why surprises are a _good thing_ and not an assassin thing?”

 

“So you know who this is from then?”

 

“ _Yes_! I know who it is from, but I’m not supposed to tell you. So just pick up the present, get your ass back over here, and open the damn thing already. Then we need to get dressed and make our way to _Birthday Spot #1_ so that I can cross it off my list.”

 

Doing as he was told, Derek suspiciously picked the box up, closed and locked the sliding door, and returned to the bed. Whoever had wrapped the present had done so in a normal fashion, so Derek only needed to pull on the bow to undo the ribbon, carefully tearing off the paper next. Although he would never admit to such things out loud, he was really beginning to enjoy the excitement of opening mystery boxes. It was very different from buying dishes at the local department store, taking them home, and opening the boxes to find broken pieces inside. Those kinds of mysteries he could do without. But opening a present to find a gorgeous, soft, camel brown, faux fur-lined… _winter coat_ …

 

Derek pulled the heavy coat out of the box, turned it over in his hands, flipped it back again to pet the soft furry hood, and looked at Stiles with a tearful grin.

 

_Snap!_

 

_Gotcha! Dewy-eyed Bambi-wolf!_

 

Stiles eagerly pressed _save_ on his cell phone app and hid the camera away in case Derek felt the need to delete the photo. “That’s a really nice coat,” he said enviously. “I wonder who got you that.”

 

“Who gave me this, Stiles? I have to say thank you. It’s incredible!”

 

“Maybe after we finish with your birthday celebrations, we can go on a hunt for Santa.” Stiles watched Derek unzip the coat and begin to explore the vintage toggles running down the length of it, before pulling it on and stuffing his hands into the pockets. All the while, Stiles was thinking, _if that serial killer Peter tries to take this away from Derek, I’ll turn him into a coat!_

 

* * *

 

It was close to 8:30am when Stiles backed his jeep out of the deserted parking lot of Derek’s loft. Because the wolf owned the building, no one else lived there, which made it a great spot for parties. All those vacant parking spots. All that space.

 

 _All mine_ , Stiles thought to himself, but he was no longer thinking about the parking lot.

 

“Where are we going?” Derek asked from the passenger’s seat.

 

“You’ll see.” Someday soon Stiles really needed to get a camera. His cell phone was now loaded with pictures and mini-movies of Derek, and he had no idea how much memory he had left to play with. His wolf looked so yummy and stylish in that new camel coat that Stiles had spent a good ten minutes posing him in it, filling his cell phone with cute and embarrassing photos. The other ten minutes had been properly utilized with lots of nuzzling, kissing, and complimenting. What wolf didn’t like to be praised on his birthday?

 

Nearly twenty minutes later, Stiles slowed down and drove off the road. The tires of his jeep crunched over the packing snow on the ground, slipping a bit when he accelerated to get over a low hill. Then he threw the jeep into park, turned off the ignition, and looked over at his warm and happy wolf.

 

“Stiles, why are we at the lake?”

 

“First things first. Breakfast.” Stiles snapped open the lid of the stainless steel tumbler he had filled back at the last Starbucks and took a large gulp of the piping hot caramel macchiato inside. “Mmm, Starbucks,” he sighed. He then passed the tumbler to Derek and opened the accompanying paper bag to reveal two carrot raisin muffins.

 

“I don’t get what the big deal about Starbucks is,” Derek said as he took hold of the extra large tumbler and held it close to his face to sniff the contents. “Smells like sugar. A lot of sugar.”

 

“Just try it. You’ll love it. _Trust me._ ”

 

Tilting the tumbler up a bit, Derek took a small sip of the sugary concoction… and his eyes shot open. “This _is_ good,” he agreed, the rim of the tumbler already back up against his lips.

 

Stiles looked at Derek in mild concern when the wolf began to swallow at an alarming rate. “Uh… Derek… You can’t get high on caffeine or caramel, can you?”

 

“My mother never allowed caramel in the house,” Derek replied casually, not making the connection between the banned condiment and his sudden urge to tear off into the woods buck naked.

 

Before Derek could put the tumbler back to his lips, Stiles nervously grabbed it and tugged hard. But Derek wouldn’t let go. “I think you’ve had enough.” His special day with Derek would be so royally screwed if his wolf got all drugged up this early in the morning. “Here, have a muffin.” Stiles took one of the muffins, shoved it into Derek’s mouth, and retrieved his tumbler. He set the tumbler down on the floor of the driver’s side, between his left leg and the door, where Derek didn’t have a chance in hell of being able to reach it. _Bad drugged wolf. Seriously bad wolf_ , he inwardly groaned, reminding himself to make a list of things that Derek shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near in the future. Caramel was going to be at the top of that list.

 

“This muffin is dry,” Derek complained as he took a bite and pulled the rest of the muffin out of his mouth. “Are you trying to choke me?”

 

“No. I was trying to save you from yourself. Now eat your muffin and shut up. Nobody is perfect, not even Starbucks.” And after having said that, Stiles had to keep his own feelings about the dry muffin to himself. _Crappy day-old leftovers._

 

A few mouthfuls later, Stiles was drinking his favorite sweet beverage while keeping an eye on the visually stimulated wolf by his side. He worried for a second that Derek might try to maul him for the caramel macchiato, so he quickly passed the wolf the mixed juice that he had been saving for later.

 

“This is pretty good, too,” Derek conceded, although his eyes continued to follow that tumbler wherever it went.

 

“Okay, now that we’ve enjoyed our breakfast, it’s time to hit the lake.”

 

“The lake is frozen.”

 

“Exactly!” Stiles went around to the back of the jeep to remove a heavy paper bag from behind the backseat, and led his wolf down to the icy wonderland before them. He just loved the crunch of the snow beneath his feet and the dazzling brightness of everything white and pure. But as soon as he pulled the two pairs of black skates out from the paper bag, Derek shrank back, acting as if he’d just seen a dead body. “What?”

 

“There’s no way you’re getting me out _there_ ,” Derek protested, jerking his arm in the direction of the frozen lake. “Wolves don’t skate.”

 

 _Yeah. No kidding!_ Stiles had seen Scott’s pathetic attempt at skating and boy had that ever been horrible. But for Stiles it had been one heck of a good laugh, watching I’m-so-cool Scott flounder on the ice, crash face first into the plastic shielding, and wipe out onto his not-so-cool ass. However, Stiles hadn’t chosen to take Derek skating because he wanted to see him fall. He had no sick desire to see his wolf hurt or embarrass himself. What he did want was for Derek to have no choice but to cling onto him for fear of falling down. What could be more romantic than skating across a beautiful glittering lake with Derek hanging onto him for dear life?

 

“So I’ll teach you. I got you a pair in your size.” Not about to take _no_ for an answer, Stiles thrust the skates at Derek and sat down on a nearby tree stump to put on his own pair.

 

For a moment, Derek just stared at Stiles, as if he were waiting for the real birthday event to be revealed. The one that didn’t involve him spinning out of control in the middle of a dangerous looking lake of ice. When nothing else presented itself, Derek muttered something rude under his breath and found a flat spot on the ground to safely put his skates on. “You could at least let me have more of that Starbucks drink,” he suggested, trying to bargain for more of that heavenly nectar in exchange for physically endangering himself.

 

“Absolutely _no way_!” Having laced up his skates, Stiles clomped over to Derek, being careful not to go sliding down the incline that led to the lake itself. “Give me your hand.”

 

“I don’t need help getting up, Stiles.” Derek bolted to his feet in a foolish display of wolfish pride… and nearly fell onto his ass when his skates slid forward but his body leaned backwards.

 

“I’ve got you.” Stiles grabbed Derek by the waist and pulled him into his arms. “Warm, fuzzy, camel-wolf,” he murmured, stuck between nuzzling Derek’s cute stubble and the faux fur of the coat’s hood. In the end he settled for nuzzling both. Now _this_ is why skates had been invented. “Just hold onto me and you’ll be fine.” He carefully made his way down to Mother Nature’s skating rink, trying really hard not to giggle like a schoolgirl when Derek tripped and slid and clung to him in terror.

 

“Stiles… I really think this is a bad idea. Wolves don’t like the ice.”

 

“But you like me, right?”

 

“Is that a trick question?”

 

Having nothing to say to that, Stiles stepped onto the smooth skating rink with his wolf in tow, and pushed off. “ _Shit!”_ For a precarious few seconds, Stiles thought that he was going to go flying head over skate blades when he slid faster than predicted over the wide expanse of ice, with Derek crashing into him on his right side. Flailing his left arm for balance, Stiles kept his right arm firmly around Derek’s waist, while the wolf clung onto his neck with both arms and braced himself for impact. They went sailing over the smooth surface at breakneck speed, not slowing down even when they stumbled over some bumps and cracks in the ice. “Derek, stop leaning forward!” Stiles shouted as he struggled to keep both their faces from being cracked open on the shiny surface beneath their skates.

 

“Where do you want me to lean? _Backwards?!”_

“Holy shit! No! Just bend your knees a little and don’t lean in any direction other than up.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense. You can’t lean up. Stiles, I thought you knew how to skate,” Derek murderously accused, burying his face in Stiles’ green and yellow striped scarf when he spotted the large tree branch protruding from the ice up ahead. “Stiles, _do_ _something_!”

 

Feeling the sky whizzing past at eighty knots per hour, and wondering if a polar bear on ice could travel that fast, Stiles banked to the right and angled his left skate outwards so that he could use it as a braking system. “Don’t panic. There’s no need to panic,” he muttered, as he began to panic like crazy. Slowly the brake began to take effect, bringing them to a jerky stop right in front of the snow covered branch. “Well, that wasn’t so bad,” he groaned.

 

For several minutes they just wobbled there, with Stiles panting and Derek refusing to look up to verify that they weren’t actually dead.

 

“So… you want to try again?” Stiles asked with a nervous laugh.

 

Amazingly, Derek poked his face out from behind the tacky scarf – not unlike the tacky sweater – and gave Stiles a curious look. “Can we?” While the prospect of wiping out on the ice had felt scary at first, the exhilaration of escaping unscathed was a much more powerful emotion.

 

“Oh my gosh! Hold that pose!” After an insane amount of clicking with his camera app, Stiles took hold of both of Derek’s gloved hands and skated backwards, pulling the wolf along with him. “I’ll bet no one has ever taken you skating for your birthday before,” he said smugly.

 

“I’ve never been skating before – ever,” Derek confirmed, watching the way Stiles’ skates glided clumsily left and then right, inching backwards at a non-lethal speed. “Stiles, are you a poor skater?”

 

“Yes, Derek. I suck completely, okay? I never claimed to be the Nutcracker on Ice, so stop acting surprised.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with not being good at everything. It’s kind of nice… learning how to skate… together,” Derek said warmly.

 

Grinning wickedly, Stiles gave Derek a firm pull, which drew the wolf into his arms again. “Sure, but you suck more.”


	4. Chapter 4

After two hours of sucking on ice, Stiles was super battered and Derek was all rosy-cheeked and stoked for the next birthday surprise. Stiles had thought that nothing was more painful than falling on the ice, but he now knew that holding up an uncoordinated wolf to ensure he didn’t get hurt was murder on the back and knees.

 

“Where are we going now?” Derek asked excitedly. In fact, if he were to get anymore excited, he might end up rolling down the window and hanging outside it like an energetic puppy.

 

“You didn’t touch the Starbucks drink, did you?” Stiles gave Derek a suspicious look and felt around his left leg for the tumbler while stopped at a red light.

 

“What Starbucks drink?” Derek stuffed the empty tumbler behind his back and pressed both hands up against the condensation on the window. “It’s snowing again.”

 

“That’s funny. I thought I put it here…” Since the light was green again, Stiles had no choice but to put both hands back on the wheel and concentrate on where he was going. “We’re going to be just in time for our reservation.”

 

“For what?! For a movie?! A restaurant?! A helicopter ride?!”

 

Every word that left Derek’s mouth sounded like it had a punctuation mark attached to it, which was a good thing because he seemed to have forgotten to breathe between syllables. “You are _so_ cut off from anything containing sugar or caffeine today,” Stiles scolded his wolf firmly.

 

By the time they reached the end of the road, Derek was digging his claws into the worn upholstery of the car seat and looking at the steering wheel like he wanted to take a bite out of it. “Where are we?”

 

“Detox land. Sheathe your kitty claws, put your gloves back on, and out you go.” Why the hell didn’t people invite Derek to their parties? Stiles really couldn’t figure it out. Once poked out of his shell, Derek became really excited and fun to be around. Hell, if nobody but Derek came to the party, Stiles was pretty damn sure that he’d still have a blast. The wolf was all innocent and curious, and got high off the weirdest things.

 

They were now out in the middle of nowhere. Getting a reservation for this particular attraction had been really difficult –and expensive – because of its old-fashioned charm, and the fact that only one family was involved in the business. Right in the middle of the snowy path leading through the woods was a time-forgotten sled that was being led by a white harnessed horse. It was smothered in a fresh layer of red paint and had a thin cord of tiny bells nailed to either side. Derek watched the horse and sled _clip clop_ and _jingle_ nearer with eyes as wide as an owl’s. When the horse came to a stop, it snuffled by the side of Derek’s face and bowed its head.

 

The old man who had been walking alongside the horse nodded to Stiles in greeting. “Go right on up,” he said amiably, waving his hand in the direction of the sled. “There are two mugs of hot cocoa waiting for you and a plate of cookies my wife made this morning.”

 

“Thanks,” Stiles said appreciatively, until he remembered the sugar ban against Derek.

 

“Thanks a lot! They look delicious!” Derek was already in the sled with the mug of cocoa in between his chilly hands and a shortbread cookie hanging out of his mouth. “This is _awesome_ , Stiles! I love it!” He leaned back against the seat, looking like he was so blissfully unaware of the rest of the world.

 

“Anything for my favorite wolf.” Overjoyed that Derek seemed to be having a ball, Stiles made himself comfortable beside him and pulled the heavy wool blanket over both their laps. Which Derek then dropped cookie crumbs all over. And then they were off.

 

“This cocoa is the best I’ve ever tasted,” Derek complimented their guide, earning himself a flattered grin from the old man who trudged along beside them.

 

“I’ll make sure my wife gets the compliment,” he promised Derek.

 

“Someone sure has become talkative.” Stiles admired his happy, warm-looking, Bambi-wolf – cloaked in that new fuzzy camel coat. Their date had already far exceeded his expectations with the ice skating, and now Derek was overenthusiastic about their romantic sled ride through the snowy forest. It might have been awkward with their guide hovering so close, but the old man did his best to stay ahead of the sled and keep his eyes politely on the trees instead of on them. Doing his best to be inconspicuous, Stiles leaned back, stretched his arms out in an exaggerated motion, and wrapped his right one around Derek. For some reason, Derek kept appearing on his right side. Perhaps it had been intentional, which was fine with Stiles because he really liked the idea of always being able to find his wolf in the same spot. When Derek snuggled closer to him, Stiles nearly had a fit, not knowing whether to smile or cry because his eyes were all watery. “I’ll bet the forest looks different from this perspective,” he said in order to disturb the silence a bit.

 

“You mean because I’m not running through it?”

 

“Yeah, something like that. When you’re a wolf, I guess you don’t stop and smell the pine trees very often.”

 

“No, I stop and smell the cedar trees,” Derek joked sarcastically.

 

“Funny wolf,” Stiles chuckled, kissing Derek on the top of his dark head. “You know, I really should be saying _Merry Christmas_ to myself.”

 

“Huh? Why would you say it to yourself?”

 

“Because you’re not the only one who got a present today.” Stiles squeezed Derek tighter and grinned happily. “Today might be your birthday, but it’s also my Christmas. And this year Santa finally gave me what I asked for – a sexy, cute, introverted Bambi-wolf with unbelievably _big_ caramel-blown sea-green eyes. Yeah, I know you got high again off that caramel macchiato, so don’t even bother denying it.”

 

“Are you sure you’re not going to get sick of your Christmas present a few months down the road?” Derek asked, sounding several shades of insecure.

 

“I’ve already had three and a half years to get sick of you, Derek. As hard as I’ve tried, I just couldn’t kick the addiction. In case you couldn’t tell by my long-suffering jeep, or this scarf that I’ve worn every winter since my mom gave it to me when I was six, I’m not someone who easily lets go of things. I like what I like, and I _really like_ you.” Stiles pulled his right glove off so that he could begin stroking the dark stubble on Derek’s face. “I like your wolfish facial hair. I like your fuzzy eyebrows.” Stiles moved his hand along as he continued to describe everything he liked about Derek. “I like your cute small ears. I like your thick ebony commercial-worthy hair.” Finally Stiles hugged Derek really tight with both arms, groping the wolf’s chest teasingly. “And I really like your yummy body. I would mention your eyes, but you already know what I think of those.” When Derek made a sniffling sound instead of telling Stiles to cut it out, Stiles bent down and kissed the wolf’s fuzzy cheek. “Silly emotional wolf,” he sighed as his own eyes became misty.

 

The rest of the sled ride was quiet and magical, with Stiles trying his best not to ruin the mood. Everywhere they went everything was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, which was getting a bit thicker since it was still snowing and didn’t look like it would let up anytime soon. By the time they arrived back in front of Stiles’ parked jeep it was quite late in the afternoon and getting dark.

 

As the horse came to a full stop, and the sled along with it, Stiles detached himself from Derek with a great deal of reluctance. He’d been so comfortable that he’d nearly fallen asleep. And when it took a few pokes to get Derek up and moving, Stiles realized that the wolf actually had fallen asleep. “Come on, Bambi-wolf, time for our last stop.”

 

Stiles was about to climb down and thank the old man for the sentimental adventure when he was waved back into the sled. And then the old man was pulling a Nikon DSLR camera out of the horse’s saddlebag and adjusting the dials.

 

“Complimentary photo for your memories,” the old man said kindly, waiting for Stiles and Derek to get into position.

 

Now _that_ was a _real_ camera! Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, pulled him in close, and squished their cheeks together. After the man had snapped the shot, Stiles rushed over to see how it looked.

 

“That’s a really nice picture!” Stiles beamed, looking over his shoulder at Derek who seemed to agree with him. “Especially with that smile. I’m going to print it out and frame it! You have my email address, right?” He asked the old man.

 

“The same one you used for the reservation? Yup, I sure do! I’ll send it to you later on today.”

 

“Great! Thanks a lot. This was the best sled ride – _ever_!”

 

“It was really great. Thanks!” Derek joined in with just as much enthusiasm.

 

“There’s just been one thing that I’ve been meaning to ask you,” the old man said curiously. “I’ve been operating sled rides for the past four decades, so I’ve heard a lot of pet names. _Sweet-cakes, stud-muffin, twinkle-bear_ … But I’ve never heard _Bambi-wolf_. Is that some kind of new character from Disney?”

 

“Uh… something like that,” Stiles replied sheepishly while Derek just blushed.

 

“Well, you have a nice day then Mr. Stilinski. Bambi-wolf,” the old man said cheerfully as he got his sled prepared for his late afternoon booking.

 

“Stiles,” Derek muttered under his breath. “Now you’ve got other people calling me that ridiculous name.”

 

But Stiles couldn’t apologize because he was too busy laughing his head off.

 

* * *

 

The drive back into town was just as peaceful as the sled ride had been. In the winter the sky got dark pretty early so there were already plenty of stars out. Derek was sleepily looking out the window and occasionally holding his hand to his stomach. Even though Stiles didn’t have super sensitive wolf hearing, it was hard to miss the hungry growl Derek’s stomach made when they passed an all-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant along the road. But Stiles made no mention of it, because he hadn’t forgotten about lunch – no, he had intentionally skipped it.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Stiles asked as he drove down a familiar backstreet and followed it past his favorite cake shop.

 

“Can I have a copy of that picture, too?” Derek asked nervously.

 

“Of course you can have a copy,” Stiles said, ecstatic that his wolf wanted to keep a picture with him in it.

 

“Where are we going now? This looks like your neighborhood.”

 

“It is my neighborhood.” Stiles pulled into his driveway, parked the jeep, and undid his seatbelt. His expression was serious when he looked over at Derek. “Well, your birthday kind of ends here, Derek. As soon as we step inside that house we’re going to be celebrating Christmas. So it’s time for me to give you your birthday kiss.” Stiles leaned in close to Derek and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

 

Derek glanced over at Stiles, looked down at his hands, then looked back up again in confusion. “That’s it?”

 

“No way. That was just me warming you up.” Stiles practically lunged across the car as he grabbed onto Derek and pressed their lips together in a passion-charged kiss. His wolf should have tasted like shortbread cookies and cocoa, but all Stiles could taste on his tongue was that caramel macchiato. He felt Derek’s arms come around him to pull him even closer as the wolf pressed into him to deepen the kiss. The kiss then turned into a few delightful minutes of hot tongue-twisting action that coaxed Derek to make that rumbling purring sound that could have been a moan, and Stiles to get in some naughty groping. “I am _so_ unwrapping my present tonight,” Stiles promised, kissing Derek once more for added effect.

 

“You do that and there are no returns and no refunds,” Derek half-joked.

 

“That’s just the way I like my presents. Forever _mine_.” Stiles patted Derek on the head and got out of the jeep. He was so hungry he could just catch the faint scent of ham roasting in the air.

 

“Something smells really good,” Derek commented as they made their way up to the front door.

 

Before either of them had a chance to reach the front door, it swung open on its own and Stiles’ father appeared looking pleased and excited. “You boys are just in time for dinner,” he announced, stepping aside to let them get in. “Merry Christmas Stiles! Derek.”

 

“Merry Christmas Dad!” Stiles shouted back with a little too much zeal.

 

“Merry Christmas Mr. Stilinski,” Derek said nervously.

 

Once they were all inside, Stilinski stepped back to take a good long look at Derek. “It’s just the right size,” he said with a self-satisfied grin. “Suits you, too.”

 

Derek gaped at him in shock. “ _You_ gave me this coat?”

 

“Well, I couldn’t let me son take his date out on such a cold day without a decent winter coat. You’re always coming around here wearing nothing but black t-shirts, so I just assumed that you didn’t have a coat.”

 

“Thank you very much. It’s a really nice coat,” Derek said appreciatively, beginning to get choked up again. “But I didn’t get you anything…”

 

“I wouldn’t say that. You’ve made my son so happy it looks like he won the lottery. That’s a good enough gift for me.” Stilinski laughed when Stiles turned redder than Derek.

 

“Dad, come on! You promised not to say anything weird.”

 

“This coming from someone who doesn’t know how to stop saying weird things.” Stilinski took Stiles’ scarf and the itchy sweater that Stiles pulled over his head, along with Derek’s coat, and hung them up in the closet. “I hope you boys are hungry because the ham roast just came out of the oven and the boiled vegetables are on their way.”

 

“Ham roast?!” Derek’s eyes lit up and he didn’t need to be asked to follow Stilinski into the dining room to check out the juicy looking chunk of meat sitting on the cutting board in the center of the table.

 

“Have a seat while I get the rest of the food ready.”

 

Stiles sat beside Derek and impishly held his hand underneath the table. “I know that your birthdays in the past must’ve really sucked, but from now on you’re only going to have happy birthdays. Followed by Merry Christmases.”

 

The rest of the night was spent chatting with Stilinski about old times past, allowing the nostalgic sheriff to reminisce about all the happy Christmas memories he had. He asked a few nosy questions about Derek’s birthday and what Stiles had been up to last night, but let it drop before his fatherly interest turned into a parole officer interrogation. But nothing made Stiles happier than seeing the positive glow that surrounded Derek as he adjusted to being included in the Stilinski festivities. His wolf had finally found a place where he belonged, and that place would be forever beside Stiles.


End file.
